Wings to Fly
by TuesdayNovember
Summary: With young Harry's death, Lord Voldemort takes over the Ministry, putting into place new laws that quickly find the Weasleys on the wrong side of danger. Written for the fic exchange at xoxLewrahxox's Bellatrix Lestrange forum.
1. The Tragedy

**Written for Gamma (Gamma Orionis)'s fic exchange at xoxLewrahxox's Bellatrix Lestrange forum; prompt stated in full at the end.**

**With many thanks to both Gamma, for her unfailing support, and of course to Anna (Anna Scathach) for being such an invaluable and incredible beta.**

**Written for Jasper (The Psychotic House-Elf)'s prompt, and dedicated entirely to him, in hopes that he likes it.**

**WARNINGS:**** Explicit violence, character death, infanticide, etc.**

* * *

_Because these wings are no longer wings to fly_

_But merely vans to beat the air_

_Air which is now thoroughly small and dry_

_Smaller and dryer than the will_

T. S. Eliot, "Ash Wednesday"

* * *

**Part I: The Tragedy**

"A human being is an evil entity…" – Niklas Kvarforth

* * *

_Late summer, 1983:_

A pair of heavy boots stomped above them, sending down another thin shower of dust. Against his better judgement, little Ronald Weasley looked up instead of down, receiving a faceful of it, and having to fight against a sneeze.

Like all the changes that came with the new regime, this one had been slow and subtle. A reform here, a new law there, and slowly – very slowly – but surely, the Weasleys had found themselves as fugitives in a world increasingly hostile not only to Muggles and Muggle-born wizards, but sympathisers as well. It had been Arthur, one day a few months ago, who had brought a boy not much older than Ron home with him, after seeing the child's parents – the mother a witch and the father a Muggle – taken to Azkaban. At least, he assumed they were being taken to Azkaban, but the way he heard the officials talking, these parents were hardly the first – and far from the last – in this situation, and with the prison nearly at capacity already…

Molly hadn't wanted to keep the child at first, but Arthur had begged, had implored her – _You don't know what these people do to the half-bloods and the Muggle-borns. You don't __**want**__ to know._ And eventually she relented, letting little Seamus share a room with her youngest son, but not allowing him out with them when they went shopping, nor allowing him to play outside, nor even for him to spend too much time peering out windows…

And yet somehow they knew.

Somehow they always came to know, eventually, when someone was breaking the law.

The floor under the kitchen was a hollowed out, dusty chamber. When the Burrow was first built, so many centuries ago, it had been used as a pantry for certain herbs and spices that were best kept in the cool and dark. But it had long fallen out of use by the time Molly Weasley took ownership of the kitchen, and it was sealed shut to prevent the curious twins from prising the trap door open and falling in. But on the day when Arthur came home early – bursting in the door, bringing a whirl of dirt and summer sunlight in with him, speaking of anti-Apparation charms and danger – it was opened again, and the family was crowded inside, without time to air out the dank and mildew and dust.

It was hot, with the ten of them huddled beneath the ground, backs pressed up against the dirt, legs twisted up beneath them, all trying so very hard not to make a sound, not even to breathe. And it wasn't long until they heard someone blast the door open, and two pairs of heavy shoes came, walking loudly along the wood floors, sending vibrations which seemed to echo infinitely, and which sent little shivers of dust drifting softly downwards into Ron's nose, like powdery snow.

He fought back a sneeze.

"The house is dead silent," a voice said roughly. "They must have known we were coming."

"Such brilliant deduction, Mulciber," a female voice snapped. The sound of cabinets opening and shutting, then: "Check the top ones too."

"Nothing here, just a bunch of shitty plates."

More cabinets shutting, then the sound of porcelain shattering loudly against the floor, and a low laugh.

Ginny Weasley, barely two years old, clutched in her mother's arms, gave a little cry of alarm. Molly's eyes widened in horror as she clamped a sweaty hand against her daughter's mouth and nose, muffling the sound.

"What was that?" the woman said sharply.

"Creaky floors," Mulciber said blandly. "This house is a shithole, everything creaks and groans. Listen."

A pair of heavy boots stomped above them, sending down another thin shower of dust. Ron bit his lip, drawing blood, to keep the sneeze inside.

"Wait!" the woman said.

"Fuck, Bella, _what?"_

Another pair of shoes tapped over them. "Doesn't that sound hollow to you?" Molly gripped her daughter tighter, ignoring the child's strained, strangled protests. "And there's that whining again! I'm telling you –"

"What's this?" a third voice said. "What's taking so long? Has one of you even checked the upstairs yet? For all we know they could have run away already, with all the goddamn noise you two are making down here."

"It's barely been two minutes, Lucius," Mulciber said.

"And that's more than enough time for them to have left. The Dark Lord put _me_ in charge of this operation, Mulciber, with strict orders for us to bring the blood traitors to him. _Don't_ fuck this up. And you, Bellatrix, you can wipe that stupid smirk off your face."

"If you're so bloody bothered you should have come in and done the job yourself," she said. "Go check the upstairs, if it's so important to you."

"Not alone – you two are coming with me."

Molly let out the breath she had been holding in, loosening her grip on her daughter at the same time, and feeling the limp child sink further into her breast.

One of them sighed, and the boots began to cross the kitchen floor, sending a last trickle of dust down – one very last trickle of dust, powdering across Ron's face.

And he sneezed.

"Did you hear that?" Bellatrix nearly shrieked. "I told you, Mulciber! I told you something was different about that floor … _Confringo!_"

The wood shattered, exposing the nine Weasleys and little Seamus Finnigan to the light. The children began to scream and cry – all except Ginny, who lay against her mother, unmoving – and Arthur made to draw his wand.

"_Avada kedavra,_" Lucius shouted, hitting the man in the chest and watching the light vanish from his eyes as he sank a bit deeper into the ground.

"Bellatrix, Mulciber, grab the children!"

A few shouts of _Incarcerous!_ followed, and a single _Stupefy!_, and Bellatrix and Mulciber began to haul the bound, screaming children to their feet, out of their little pit. Molly they left lying there, Stunned, with Ginny's limp body under one limp arm.

"Is that all of them?" Lucius asked, scanning the group of boys, all in tears, blandly. "And for Merlin's sake, would one of you Silence these brats?"

Bellatrix rolled her eyes as Mulciber said _Silencio, Silencio, Silencio…_, and murmured under her breath, "Too good to cast his own bloody spells now?"

"Alright," Lucius pulled Ron and Seamus by the arm as he made for the door, "that's all of them? You two take the rest, Yaxley is waiting for us."

"Wait!" Bellatrix said. "The baby…" she crossed back to the pit, and bent over Molly's body, prising Ginny out from under her warm, sweaty arm.

The baby made no sound, no movement. Bellatrix shook her a bit, then snorted. "It's dead," she said, almost, but not quite, laughing. "She was holding a dead baby!"

Mulciber cracked a half smile. "What's the difference between a dead baby and a Nimbus 1000? The Weasleys don't have a Nimbus 1000."

Bellatrix snickered.

"Enough!" Lucius snapped. "You two are disgusting. Take the children and follow me."

"What about this one?" Bellatrix asked, motioning with her head to the baby held loosely in her grip.

Lucius turned back to face them. "Leave her with the mother," he said, and left with Ron and Seamus in tow.

Bellatrix knelt by the pit and gingerly lifted one of Molly Weasley's arms, dropping Ginny on her breast, upside down, before letting the flabby arm go, so it flopped down heavily on the child.

•••

Lucius, Bellatrix, Mulciber, and Yaxley arrived at the Ministry of Magic with the seven boys not much after two in the afternoon. As they each stepped out of their Floo, pulling the still bound children along with them, only a few workers turned to look at the odd sight. By now, many employees of the Ministry were used to seeing members of the elite Death Eaters bringing the children of misguided parents to the Ministry for re-education, if not families of undesirable status to be concentrated in more suitable areas.

As they crossed the Atrium to the lifts, witches and wizards stepped out of the way for them. The four Death Eaters, even only partly in uniform, struck an imposing figure as their boots landed heavily against the dark granite floors and their robes beat the air behind them. A tense quiet befell the Atrium, broken only by the sound of their echoingly loud footfalls and the softer scrabbling of the bound children behind them. Only a few Ministry employees turned to look – but all of them froze as the Death Eaters passed them by on their way to the lift.

With a gentle ping, the golden gates slid open to reveal a handful of people standing within.

"Clear the lift," Lucius said coldly.

The three wizards and two witches, after a brief moment of stunned silence, spilled out into the Atrium.

The four Death Eaters unceremoniously pushed the boys into the lift. "Make room," Bellatrix snapped, shoving one of the twins closer to a wall. "Make some bloody room. Which floor are we supposed to take them to?"

"Ninth," Yaxley said, reaching for the button.

"No, not this time." The other three turned to look at Lucius. "The Dark Lord wants them on the tenth floor."

"Why?" Mulciber asked, as he elbowed Charlie to make more room for himself.

Lucius frowned. "I think that would be best not discussed here, don't you?" And he turned to look forward, sternly, at the doors to the lift.

Mulciber glared at the side of his head, but said nothing.

The lift arrived, and as the gates slid open, Lucius said, "Blindfold them."

The group stepped out into the dark hallway, and from one of Lucius's pockets were produced seven dark strips of cloth, which the other three began to tie around the boys' eyes, tightly, not paying much attention to make sure their hair didn't get caught in the knots.

"Hurry up," Lucius snapped as Yaxley fumbled with Bill's blindfold. "And follow me."

Yaxley, finally giving up on the difficult blindfold, tied it sloppily, gave him a shove, and took the back of the trail of prisoners, mutely and blindly shuffling down the corridor.

The result of Yaxley's shoddy work with the blindfold, however, was that shortly after Bill felt a rough hand on his back pushing him forwards, the cloth slipped, exposing just enough of his left eye that he could see where they were going.

And twelve year old Bill knew to use that as best he could – memorising the route his captors took so that, were there a chance for escape, he could take it with some slight likelihood of success.

The path was fairly simple: two left turns, a right, down a short flight of stairs, and into a room barred with onyx doors.

The room itself was plain and mostly empty – dark granite floors, just like in the Atrium, a long table nearer the side opposite the door, and two windows, one on the left and another on the right, that were charmed to display gently rolling hills swathed in thin mist.

Bill, his brothers, and Seamus, were ushered towards the left wall.

Just as Bill sat down with his arms, bound behind him, pressed uncomfortably against the cold wall, someone tapped at the door. From the corner of his eye he could see the blond wizard – Lucius Malfoy, who he had sometimes heard his father talk about – open one of the doors to let a pale purple aeroplane zoom in, circle his head once, then land in his outstretched hand.

Lucius read it quickly and said, "The Dark Lord wants to see us before…" he waved a hand vaguely at the children.

"All of us?" Bellatrix asked.

Lucius inclined his head. "It's a meeting, Bellatrix," he said drily.

"Then who'll watch the children? Are we supposed to leave them unattended?"

"They're tied up and blindfolded," Mulciber said. "And even if they did manage to get out of the room, how far do you think they'd get before someone caught them? Seven scraggly little boys wandering through the Ministry…"

Bellatrix frowned but gave no further argument, instead saying, "Where does he want us?"

Lucius opened the door, and the three other Death Eaters followed. "The usual place…" Bill heard him say distantly, as their footsteps echoed down the hall and the door closed behind them.

This was his chance – possibly the only one he'd get. He began to rub the rope that bound his hands against the wall, hoping it might sever the cord. But the wall was too smooth to have much effect on it, he realized shortly. And so instead he opted to wriggle his hands, in hopes that the movement might loosen the bonds. He prayed his brothers were doing the same.

The ropes chaffed his wrists, and as minutes passed he began to feel a thin, tickling trickle of warm blood running down his hands. The friction of it burned, and the blood that ran so gently on his skin was aggravatingly itchy. But yes, he was sure he could feel the ropes loosening, sure he could almost slip a hand through…

Long minutes passed, but finally, finally, contorting his hand in just the right way, pulling his thumb so far in that it almost hurt, and fingers pressed so close together that he could feel the bones pressing against each other, he managed to slip a hand through, and the bonds slipped off his wrists.

He wiped the blood away hastily and bent to free his feet – much quicker work, though his hands were shaking badly and his fingers were still slick and slightly sticky with blood, his raw wrists bleeding still…

But then he was free, and he stood on unsteady legs, tearing off the blindfold. His brothers were next. Charlie first; he pulled the blindfold off, and began to free his hands – simple work, as Charlie had already begun to loosen his. And soon, together, they began to free the younger boys.

His hands were shaking badly, his legs barely supporting him, and tears prickled at the corners of his eyes. Bill gritted his teeth and fought to keep himself from crying, although the tears he wouldn't let fall were clouding his vision, and it was so difficult not to cry, and his head was pounding from trying so hard…

As he pulled Ron to his feet and led his brothers across the room to the door, he began to wish he had his wand with him, that he hadn't left it in his room, that he hadn't run so hastily downstairs when he'd heard his parents calling for them, that he'd only just taken a moment to hide it in his robes. But it hadn't felt real then. The danger had been play-danger – the danger of being found in a game of hide-and-seek, the danger of a hand about to touch his arm in a game of tag – not real danger. Not once, not even while the ten of them were hidden under the floor, did he really, truly, think they'd be caught, that after today he wouldn't be able to go home anymore, that he wouldn't have a chance to finish writing the letter he'd started, that he wouldn't…

He blinked rapidly. _No,_ he thought. _I won't cry. I __**won't**__._

He ground his back teeth together and reached for the door handle, praying it would be unlocked. The metal gave him a little shock, but the door slid open easily to reveal a narrow hallway and a short flight of stairs.

He beckoned his brothers onwards, and as they hesitated in the doorway, he wished he had his voice back so he could do more than motion furiously and pull at Percy's arm.

But finally they relented, and silently, fearfully, hearts pounding so loudly and rapidly that Bill was almost afraid his would burst and he'd die and – if your heart exploded did you explode open too? Would he be left lying in the corridor for ages, chest all open and bloody?

By the time they reached the lift, Ron had cried himself out and was doing no more than sniffling silently. They had met no one along the way, which Bill was thankful for – more than thankful for – though he was certain it was an oddity to wander through empty halls in the Ministry. He'd been to his father's office before, had seen all the people bustling through the halls, all the aeroplanes with memos, but here on the first floor there was none of that.

But the lift posed a new problem. Certainly someone would be in it – the lift was never empty – and what were they to do then, when whoever it was found out who they were, and why they were there?

Bill closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths to steady himself, and pressed the button, begging Merlin – if Merlin, so long dead, could even be any help – for his plan to work.

The gates slid open with a gentle ping to reveal a solitary woman, looking a bit frazzled, a bit stressed, standing within. When she saw the raggedy, crying group of boys, her mouth formed a little 'O' of surprise, and she moved to the side to allow them all in.

"Boys, what are you doing here?"

Bill made sure his sleeves covered his bleeding wrists, and put a hand to his throat, miming his speechlessness.

"You can't speak?"

He shook his head, and mimed waving a wand.

The witch tilted her head to the side. "You were Silenced?"

He nodded and gave her the most pleading look he could muster, while miming a wand again.

"Would you like me to give your voice back?"

He nodded again, heart hammering nervously.

She produced her wand and murmured a spell, watching as Bill tested his voice with quiet little noises.

"Thanks, ma'am," he mumbled.

"Do you mind if I ask what exactly is going on?" she said kindly, bending a little at the waist to be more at Bill's level.

Here was his chance. Bill let his lip wobble just a little bit, and said, "We were here with our dad and he took us to his office for a bit but my brothers and I were being too loud so he got a little mad at us and Silenced us and said he's give us our voices back after we were good but then Ron started to wander away and I followed him and my brothers followed me but we got lost and I don't know where we are and we just want our dad!" he let his voice break a little, theatrically, at the end.

The woman's face contorted sympathetically. "Oh you poor boys," she said, reaching out to give Fred, who was standing beside her, a little hug. "Who's your father?"

Bill's heart nearly stopped. "A-Arthur Weasley…" he said quietly, praying she didn't know what had happened.

"Weasley…oh yes," she nodded, and smiled down at him, "That's a good family to belong to, dear. What's your name?"

"Bill."

The lift reached the Atrium and gave a little ping as the gates slid open.

"Step outside for a moment with me, boys," she said.

He hesitated, and a few older wizards, holding a large case between them, stepped inside.

"Come," she said, motioning.

Slowly, he followed her, pulling Ron, who was hiding near the back, along with him.

They stepped out into the bustling Atrium, and she motioned for them to come closer. "Now Bill," she said, "I'm going to take you boys back to your father, but first I have to ask – I know your family, and I know you only have five brothers, not six – who is this?" She put a gentle hand on Seamus's shoulder, as he huddled near her legs.

"I don't know," Bill said. "We found him on that floor and he just started following us."

She turned to Seamus. "What's your name, dear?"

He stared up at her with wide eyes and said nothing.

"Can he talk?"

Bill shrugged. "He hasn't said anything to us."

She crouched down to his level. "Are you lost?"

He looked at Bill, tears in his eyes, and he began to cry silently, his mouth opening but no sound coming out.

The woman stood and took a step back. "He's Silenced too." Bill said nothing. "Where did you find him?"

"The tenth floor," he said.

"And do you know who he is? How he got there?"

"I've never seen him before in my life." He hesitated a moment. "Please, ma'am, we just want our dad, can we go?"

She pursed her lips suspiciously. "I'll take you to your father in a moment, boys, but we can't have an unidentified, Silenced child running about the Ministry. Come with me to the desk."

Bill felt his stomach flop. "What about the Floo?" he said quickly. "Can me and my brothers Floo home? Our mum's there and it'll be less trouble for you if you let us!"

"I'm sorry Bill, but I can't do that. If anything were to happen to you…"

"Nothing would happen! We've used the Floo before, we know what to do and I can take Ron with me since he's so young, it won't be any danger and it won't be any trouble!" He was starting to become frantic, and the witch could tell.

"I can't do that, Bill. Just come with me, and I'll take you to your father in minute." She took Seamus, still crying, by the hand and began to walk across the floor to the desk.

She was about three steps away, and Bill was wondering if his brothers would be able to Floo home if they had no voices, when the lift opened, and he heard a witch shriek, "There! That's them!"

He turned quickly to see Bellatrix, followed by two other Death Eaters he didn't recognize, bursting out of the lift towards them.

He grabbed Ron fiercely by the wrist and pulled him along after him as he shouted to his brothers, "_Run!_"

Bill heard a few screams behind him as spells flashed, some hitting the walls and sending bits of plaster flying. He pulled harder at Ron, who was small and slow, and, it felt, dragging him backwards. Running with Ron was like trying to run through molasses, and with the Death Eaters shouting spells behind them…

He didn't dare look back to see if he brothers were still behind him – he remembered Charlie telling him once that looking back while on a broom made you lose your momentum, and Bill assumed the same was true of running.

There was a door at the far end of the hall, and Bill knew if they could just make it there…

Ron stumbled, and his hand slipped from Bill's sweaty grasp. He half turned, the edges of his vision black, so he saw nothing more than Ron's body, tiny and shaking, lying on the floor, and Bill reached down to grab his arm, to pull him up again, but a spell flashed right past his hand, red and violent, missing him by a hair's breadth.

And his heart hammered in his chest, louder than ever, and tears began to stream down his cheeks, blinding his already faltering vision, and he turned and straightened without his brother, and he ran.

His feet slapped the hard granite floors, though he heard nothing beyond the rushing in his ears, and his heart burned in his chest, and he could barely see, but reached the door and pulled it open, finding himself in a Muggle telephone box where a kind witch's voice said, "Where to?"

"Up!" Bill screamed, hammering at the walls. "Up! Take me _up!_" He didn't want to turn around – his brothers weren't with him, they were somewhere back there, at the Ministry, and he'd abandoned them…

The box began to move upwards slowly, just as he heard something slam against the door, and a few incoherent shouts.

He shook, and he cried, and he could barely breathe, and the box stopped a moment later, the witch's voice saying, "I hope you enjoyed your time at the Ministry. Have a lovely day."

And he stepped outside onto the streets of Muggle London, tears in his eyes, dried blood on his hands, lost and alone for the first time in his life.

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**Favourite Pairings**: My favorite pairings are irrelevant for what I have in mind, and I also think it would be better without a lot of romance, but if there have to be pairings... I really like rare/unusual pairings, so any strange (and I don't mean crack/squicky strange) ones would be really fun to read if they were written in well.

**Prompts:** A dystopian world in which Voldemort killed Harry Potter in 1981 and took over Wizarding Britain completely. I don't have a particular time period in mind - just sometime after 1981. Imagine a world that's kind of like if the Nazis won, except without goose-stepping. Or, I don't know - modify it or come up with something entirely different; I won't be particularly upset if I don't get exactly what I want.

**Likes:** Sadistic violence, torture, brutality, angst, character death, Schadenfreude, general tragedy.


	2. The Comedy

**WARNINGS:**** explicit violence, child abuse, character death, etc.**

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**Part II: The Comedy**

"Man was matter … drop him out a window and he'll fall. Set fire to him and he'll burn. Bury him and he'll rot, like other kinds of garbage." – Joseph Heller, _Catch 22_

* * *

"You let him get away!" Bellatrix screeched, whirling around to face Travers.

"It's not my fault!" he snapped. "He was too fucking fast for me, what do you want?"

"I want you to get him back!" Her voice hit him like a whip. "What else is there for me to want, you idiot?"

Selwyn glanced around the Atrium nervously. Everyone was staring at them, at the mess their spells had made, at the Stunned boys, all lying at various points across the hall, at the witch with little Seamus Finnigan's hand still clutched in hers, at each other, too startled to speak or move, and he knew something had to be done.

"Bellatrix," he said, his voice sounding too loud in the sudden silence. She turned to him. "Don't you think we should take the boys and go? We can deal with the other one later."

She narrowed her eyes at him, and for a moment he thought she might – in her anger that the boy had escaped – curse him, but instead she said, "Yes, fine, yes. Travers, grab those two boys there, Selwyn, the other two," and she herself took hold of Percy, pulling him up by his hair and hissing _Rennervate_ as she dug the point of her wand into the side of his neck.

The three Death Eaters dragged the unwilling, and in some cases only semi-conscious, children along with them to the lift. As Bellatrix passed the desk, she said to the witch with Seamus, "You, take that boy and come with us." To the look of mixed shock and confusion on her face, Bellatrix said, "He's an escaped prisoner. A Half-Blood."

The witch's eyes widened in horror, and she released him immediately.

"Don't let go of him, you idiot!" Bellatrix snapped. The witch, terrified, grabbed Seamus again, and pulled him after her towards the lift.

The lift arrived, with three young secretaries in bright robes who were conversing quietly amongst themselves.

"Out! Get out, all of you!"

The witches stared in horror at Bellatrix, and after a frozen moment they complied, wide-eyed and nervous.

This time, the boys were taken to a different room. As the lift let them off, Travers said, "Shouldn't we blindfold them?"

Bellatrix gave him a look. "No. It did no good last time. _I _know how to keep them where they belong."

She dragged Percy along by his hair. His face was contorted in a silent scream as tears ran down his face.

They traversed a labyrinthine path, finally descending a steep, narrow set of rough stone stairs leading to a hallway of equally rough stone, and ending abruptly at a heavy wooden door. Bellatrix pulled it open with only slight difficulty and pushed Percy inside before her. The others followed her lead, though he witch escorting Seamus did so more slowly.

"You can leave now," Bellatrix said to her.

She hesitated a moment, and Selwyn said, "Thank you for your help."

Bellatrix sneered as the woman said, almost haughtily, "You're welcome," and left.

"Now," Bellatrix said, turning to Travers and Selwyn, "the Dark Lord will be here in a few minutes. Chain the boys to that wall until then."

Travers took Seamus, and Selwyn took George, but Bellatrix said sharply, "Not him, Travers! He goes on the other side."

Long minutes passed as the two men chained the weakly struggling boys to the wall. And just as Selwyn finished with Charlie, the door opened and the Dark Lord, in heavy black robes reminiscent of the Death Eaters' own, stepped through.

"I hear there was a minor mishap with the children," he said by way of greeting.

The three lowered their heads slightly, and Bellatrix responded, "Yes, my Lord. But we got most of them back…"

"_Most?_"

She bit her lip. "One got away, my Lord. But it was –!"

"I don't want to hear excuses, Bella," he snapped, cutting her off.

"I'm sorry, my Lord," she said quietly.

He gave no response, instead pacing to the wall where the Weasley boys were chained. "You say only one escaped, Bella, but there are seven Weasley children, and only five here. What happened to the other one?"

"The girl died, my Lord."

"Died how? I asked for no casualties among the children, did I not?"

Bellatrix shook her head. "Yes, my Lord, but she was dead when we got there."

He turned to her, scrutinizing her face, then turned back to the boys. "Do you know their familial assignments?"

"Yes, my Lord. But the Parkinsons were expecting the girl, and the Notts the oldest boy…" she trailed off hesitantly.

"Then one of you will have to tell them what happened, won't you?" She inclined her head. "But we will deal with the Weasleys later. First…" he crossed the room to where Seamus lay in chains and knelt in front of him. "It is such a shame," he murmured, "when pure blood is marred by the filth of _Muggles_." He spat the word, then straightened abruptly. "Where are the parents?"

"They're being held at Treblinck," Bellatrix said.

He nodded. "Good. Very good. The boys are all Silenced, I presume?" Bellatrix nodded. "And this one, what's his name?"

"Seamus Finnigan," she said.

"Give the boy his voice back."

"My Lord?" she queried, uncertain.

"You heard me, Bellatrix. Give him his voice back."

She approached him and knelt, pushing the tip of her wand into the side of his throat as she murmured the spell.

First he coughed, then he stared at them in blank, confused fear, and then he began to cry loudly, punctuating his sobs with screams of, "_Mum, __**mum!**_"

Bellatrix stood back from him, beside Lord Voldemort, trying to conceal her distaste.

"I have always believed," he began slowly, "that torture is much more satisfying when one can hear the victim. Wouldn't you agree, Bella?"

Her eyes lit up sickeningly. "Yes, my Lord," she said.

Selwyn glanced at Travers, who was gazing at the scene before them blandly, and he fought to keep the look of horror from his face.

"Do as you wish with him, Bella. We have no use for Half-Blood children."

Bellatrix smiled and leveled her wand at Seamus. On the other side of the room, a sudden motion caused Selwyn to snap his head around. Charlie strained wildly against the chains, rattling them loudly and screaming silently.

Travers turned as well, more slowly, and after a moment pointed his wand at the boy. "_Petrificus totalus._"

Bellatrix didn't even seem to notice the minor disruption, instead taking a tiny step closer and hissing, "_Transmogrifus!_"

Seamus screamed. He screamed so loudly that Selwyn jumped, not expecting it. He screamed so loudly that Selwyn could _hear_ the boy's throat straining.

From where he was, Selwyn could see the boy's fingers twisting – backwards, over themselves, farther back and in more obscene ways than any human hand was ever meant to move. And he saw his arms pulled out to the sides, then back, and heard his elbows shatter. And he saw his mouth open, and his jaw break so that it hung down unnaturally.

His breathing was fast and shallow, almost rasping, and he choked between breaths, half coughing up blood as mucus from his nose mingled with the tears he hadn't stopped crying since he'd got his voice back dripped into his mouth.

"_Crucio!_"

And he screamed again, a bit more weakly, choking on his blood as he tried to breathe and scream at the same time.

She held the curse for long minutes, watching as he writhed against his chains, wildly, so that blood began to spatter against the ground, on his arms, near her feet, so that she had to take a step back to avoid being touched by the impurity that ran in his veins.

Finally, Lord Voldemort said, "That's enough, Bella." Reluctantly, she released him, and he sank, barely conscious, against the wall. "Let him bleed out," he continued. "Drain him of the filth within."

She nodded and murmured a series of words. Immediately, red roses of blood sprang up against his clothing, and Lord Voldemort inclined his head, satisfied.

"The boys, now," he said calmly, stepping away from Seamus and, with a motion of his hand, instructing the others to follow. "Travers, Obliviate and unshackle them. Selwyn, take them to the Relocation Office on the first floor – _not_ the second, when he's done. Rookwood will take care of it from there. And make sure you tell him about the two missing children as well."

Both Death Eaters nodded, and Travers directed his wand at Charlie. "_Obliviate,_" he said.

•••

Bill's heart was pounding wildly in his chest. Muggle London was a strange and hostile place. Cars zoomed past, honking loudly when he tried to cross the street between them; adults in strange clothes gave him suspicious, unsympathetic looks. Loud noises – and there were many of them – made him jump. He had no idea where he was, and he wandered down unfamiliar streets, trying to keep from crying.

How would he ever get home? His parents were there, and Ginny. He didn't believe that she was dead – she couldn't be. He had seen her alive, she'd smiled at him while they were underground. It was_ impossible_. And his parents weren't dead either. His mum had just been Stunned, he knew, and whatever his dad had been hit with wasn't fatal, it couldn't have been, he _knew_ it.

But every corner he turned seemed to bring him deeper into the city, until he was so confused that there was nothing he could do but sit on the kerb, lost and alone, and cry as the weight of it all began to crush him.

And then a voice said, "William Weasley?"

He looked up, bewildered, blinking back tears. "M-Mister Lovegood? Is that really you?"

Xenophilius smiled kindly. "It is indeed. Why are you sitting on a kerb in the middle of Muggle London?"

Bill stared at him for a moment, took a breath, and let the story tumble out in a rushed, confused jumble, punctuated only by broken sobs.

"Please, Mister Lovegood," he said finally, "please take me home! I need to go home, please, I need my parents, I need my wand, I need to get help…" he choked a bit, coughed, and let the stunned Xenophilius slowly take him into his arms.

"My wife is just inside the greengrocer's," he said soothingly, "and we'll take you home as soon as she comes out."

Bill was too tired to protest – he wanted to be home _now_, but he could barely open his mouth to speak out, and instead leaned heavily against Xenophilius's chest, breathing deeply and trying not to cry.

•••

When Bill, clinging tightly to Xenophilius's arm and trying to keep from vomiting, arrived just at the crest of the hill across from the Burrow, everything appeared to be normal. Songbirds spun tunes in the trees, a quiet breeze whispered through the long grasses, and the house stood as it always had, ramshackle but proud. He ran down the hill towards it, expecting his mother to meet him at the doorway with a hug, and to smell the start of dinner from within.

But he got there, and the door was standing ajar.

He pushed it in, hearing it creak slightly, and took a step inside.

Everything was in shambles. Papers were strewn across the floor, dishes lay shattered on the ground, the face of his mother's clock was broken, and pieces of glass were mixed in with the rest of the mess.

But his parents…

"Mum? Dad?" No answer.

He tried again, a little louder. "_Mum?_ _Dad!_"

Still nothing. "_**Mum! MUM!**_"

He didn't hear Xenophilius come inside behind him, didn't even realize he was there until he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder; but he pushed him off. "Stop it! I need to find my mum! Where is she? She shouldn't be hiding!" He turned around. "D'you think they went to the Ministry? To look for us? I'll get my wand…I don't know why they'd leave the place in such a mess, but I guess Mum can clean up after we get back with my brothers, right?"

Xenophilius put out a hand to stop him. "I don't think you should, William. Come with me, we should leave."

"What are you talking about? I need to get my wand!"

"We can get you another wand later, just come with me."

"I don't need another wand! It's upstairs, I just need to get it, that's all! Let me go! Let me _go!_"

But Xenophilius was insistent in taking him outside, and he half pulled Bill out of the house, telling him, "Can't you see someone broke in? Your wand won't be up there…" and doing his best to soothe him as he took him back over the ridge to his own house, where his wife would make the boy some tea, and they would do their best to help him come to his senses.

Much like the Burrow, Xenophilius's house towered out of the landscape, a dark-coloured building like a black chess piece. The inside was bright and colourful, and Bill, who had only ever been there once, quite a few years ago, was overwhelmed at the vivid cheeriness of it.

Mrs Lovegood took one look at the duo entering and without a word set a kettle to boil before returning to where Xenophilius had deposited Bill on the couch with a plate full of rock hard cookies.

"Won't you try one, dear? Xeno says you've had an awfully long day, I'm sure you must be hungry."

Bill took one, mumbling his thanks, and nearly broke a tooth trying to bite through it.

"They're a special recipe, designed to help ward off Blibbering Humdingers," Xenophilius supplied, before guiding his wife out of the room to leave Bill alone with the cookies.

In the kitchen he continued, in a much quieter voice, "We knew this was going to happen eventually. This new government is nothing but a puppet's rule on behalf of the Ejliasch Mendrosa."

Mrs Lovegood nodded. "I'm afraid one of the Mendrosas must have infiltrated the mind of the Dark Lord," she said. "There's no other explanation for the absurd rules he's been putting in place. I'm scared, Xeno. We should have left sooner – as soon as we knew what was happening. And oh, we should have warned the Weasleys!"

Xenophilius hugged her. "We can still help William get away," he said. "Get Luna and pack a bag of only our most important things. I'll ready a Portkey for the Serengeti. Everything will be fine, and we may finally get our chance to study the Sandfish. I promise."

He pressed a little kiss to her forehead, and Mrs Lovegood rushed upstairs to pack.

"William?"

Bill looked up from the cookie he was sucking on, wondering if it would be rude to ask if he could have a tea. He knew he'd heard the kettle.

"William, we're going to be taking you to safety," Xenophilius said.

"What do you mean, 'safety'? I'm safe where I am. I just need to get my mum and dad and brothers and Ginny back from the Ministry. They'll be worried about where I am and we need to clean the house. It's a mess. You saw it, Mr Lovegood."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible, William. There's no easy way to put this, but … Your family has been taken hostage by the Ejliasch Mendrosa," he said.

"The what? What are you talking about? My family is fine, they're just at the Ministry, I need to go get them!"

"The Ejliasch Mendrosa," he said calmly, "won't give your family back. And even if they did…" he hesitated, "they would be dead."

Bill's eyes, which had until now been a bit unfocussed, swivelled keenly to face Xenophilius. "My family isn't dead! Don't you dare say that!" His voice rose sharply, and from upstairs, a baby began to cry.

"That's what the Mendrosa do," Xenophilius explained, nearing exasperation. He was sympathetic, but why couldn't the boy understand?

"Stop lying!" he screamed. "There's no such thing as a Mendoser and my family – isn't – dead!"

"William…"

"Stop it! Stop _lying_!" Bill stood up quickly, toppling the plate of cookies on his lap, and flew to the door, throwing it open roughly so it hit the wall with a loud bang. And he began to run over the hill towards his house.

"William!" Xenophilius called. "_William!_"

Mrs Lovegood rushed downstairs with Luna, wailing, in her arms. "Let him go, Xeno. He needs to see for himself. He'll be back."

•••

The Burrow was still empty when Bill got there. The door stood open, and some papers were dancing in the slight breeze. The sun was beginning to set, lending long, unfamiliar shadows to the increasingly hostile-looking house.

He went upstairs first, entering each room and calling out, "Mum? Dad? Are you in there?" each time.

He saved his own for last, padding inside a room he barely recognized. His posters hung in tatters, the door to his owl's cage creaked open and shut, open and shut, in the breeze that whispered through his broken window.

Errol lay at the bottom of the cage, eyes open and unblinking, feathers matted with dried blood.

Bill moved numbly through the room, searing for his wand. He didn't find it until he tripped over something he didn't notice in the half light and fell, hitting his chin against his dresser.

Dim tendrils of light reached under his bed, illuminating half a thin, broken stick. He stretched out a hand towards it. Half a wand. He moved closer to the bed, peering under intently, until he found what he was looking for – the other half.

Spello-tape would fix it, he was sure, and he knew there was some in the kitchen.

He stood, rubbing his bruised chin, and rushed downstairs.

But the kitchen was an even worse mess than the rest of the house, and shards of wood littered the ground – the remnants of the trap door.

Something compelled him towards it, and slowly he picked his way through the rubble, until he could look down inside.

Three bodies. Unmoving.

"Mum?" he whispered. "Dad, Ginny? Wake up!" He shook his mother a bit, and her head lolled to the side. "Mum, stop pretending!" he hissed. "You have to wake up so we can get Charlie and Percy and Fred and George and Ron back! Mum! Wake _up!_" His voice got increasingly louder until he was screaming and crying as he shook her, and Ginny, in his roughness, fell from her arms and tumbled into the dirt without making a sound.

"_Wake up!_" he screamed. "_**Wake up!**_"

He pushed his mother so that she fell face-first onto the ground. "Stop pretending! Wake _up!_"

"Wake _up_!" He chanted it like a prayer, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, Spello-tape forgotten. "Wake up wake up wake up wakeup wakeup wakeupwakeupwakeup…"

He hiccoughed on his tears, and shook, and curled up tightly on the ground, continuing to whisper _wakeupwakeupwakeup…_

He must have fallen asleep because a few hours later, in the dark of night, he found himself in a bed he didn't recognize, with colourful sheets and uncomfortably embroidered pillows.

He remembered everything slowly, and when it all finally came back to him, he screamed, "Where _am_ I?"

Mrs Lovegood rushed into the room. "Oh William," she murmured, putting a cool hand to his forehead. "Oh _William…_"

"They're gone," he said, finally. "They're really gone. Mrs Lovegood … we have to leave. We can't stay here, the Death Eaters…"

"I know," she said quietly. "We're leaving as soon as you think you're ready. There's a Portkey waiting –" Something exploded loudly downstairs, and Luna began to cry again. Her eyes bugged. "They must have found out… William, get out of bed, quickly!"

She pulled at his arm and he complied, following her out of the room and through unfamiliar hallways.

He saw a flurry of bright spells flying over the banisters, hitting the walls and sending pictures crashing to the ground, and little shards of glass scraping his legs. Two hooded, cloaked figures in white masks bounded up the stairs, sending a volley of red and green towards them.

"In here!" Mrs Lovegood cried, pushing him into a room before her.

And then he heard a scream – not Mrs but Mr Lovegood's – and he turned, and saw a jet of green hit her in the back, and she began to fall, almost slowly, and he saw Mr Lovegood, with Luna in one arm and holding his wand in another, shout spell after spell at the Death Eater who had hit his wife, and sometime between the spells he found the time to shout at Bill, _The vase!_ And he knew that it was the Portkey, and he knew that the only way he would survive would be if he could get to it, and so he ran from the duelling men into the room, but neither he nor Xenophilius saw the other Death Eater, the one who ran in behind him, and the last thing he heard, just as he was reaching out for the vase that stood at the centre of an asymmetrical table, was a word.

_STUPEFY!_

•••

He couldn't open his eyes.

Or maybe he could, but everything remained black.

He heard a door open, then click shut, and three pairs of shoes tapped in, arrhythmic.

"It's a shame about the girl," a voice said. "Salazar knows we could use more girls, but at least we've got him."

"Theo should like him," another voice said. "Not that I approve of all the bloody work we had to do to get him back, but you've got to appreciate the boy's will to live."

A soft chuckle, then a silence until a third voice said, "Did you see that? I think he's awake now."

"Are you sure?" the first said. "We shouldn't chance it. That was a damned strong Stunner Bellatrix got him with, and if we try too much at once…"

"No, look! There it is again, his leg is twitching."

Silence. Bill wondered if they could be talking about him. He was sure he wasn't moving.

"He's awake," the second voice said authoritatively. "I've seen this before, and the boy is definitely awake."

There was a brief silence, and then the first said, "Well, if you're sure about it. Jugson, you can take him upstairs once we're done?"

The third voice, Jugson, said, "Yeah. Rookwood will deal with him from there, right?"

Bill heard no answer, and a heavy silence but for loudly laboured breathing that he was certain couldn't be his own blanketed the room.

Eventually: "I'll do it."

A silence – a hesitation?

"_Obliviate!_" the third voice said, and Bill sunk back against the wall.

* * *

**Thoughts? All reviews are appreciated.**


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